


mother wouldn't approve

by coupe_de_foudre



Series: Flufftober 2020 [6]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Flufftober, M/M, Ron can cook, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26979664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coupe_de_foudre/pseuds/coupe_de_foudre
Summary: “You surprise me. I wouldn't have expected you to be such a natural cook.”“Don't judge a book by it's cover.” Ron shrugged, mischievous glint in his eyes. Something about that look told Carwood that Ron enjoyed being underestimated.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs
Series: Flufftober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952335
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	mother wouldn't approve

**Author's Note:**

> here's a prequel to my [meet the parents](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26901709) speirton fic because y'all were interested in teenage ron with a piercing and I haven't been able to get the image from my head for days

“It's open!” Ron’s shout carried through the apartment and Carwood took that as is cue to walk in, carefully laying his shoes by the door and hanging his rain-soaked jacket on an empty hook. 

He took the next minute to take in his surroundings; the apartment was small, by the looks of it, paint close to peeling off the walls and various trinkets or books discarded in semi-organised piles. The floorboards were old and scratched, covered by a plush red rug that looked out of place. The whole place had a warm feeling about it, though, something comforting and homely settling heavy in your heart from the moment you step inside.

In short, it was rather ragged but well-loved.

Even so, his mother would not approve.

“Hey,” Ron smiled, finally appearing from what must be the kitchen. Carwood's breath caught in his throat at the sight of him.

He was wearing an apron, the words “I cook as good as I look" printed along the front, his hair (and face, by the looks of it) was dusted with flour and Carwood swears his eyes twinkled under the light. 

He wanted to compliment him, or at least say thank you for inviting him for dinner. Carwood never was a smooth talker, though. “You have a tattoo.” He said, dumbly, taking a step forward to trace the tree branch that curled around Ron's bicep with an almost childlike wonder.

Ron smirked, toying his tongue over his lip ring. Carwood made a point not to blush. “That I do.” He said, quirking a brow, “I have another, but I can't exactly take my top off right now.” That managed to draw a flush to Carwood's cheeks and he cleared his throat, dropping his hand back to his side. “Christ, Car, you're soaked!” Ron suddenly realised, and Carwood couldn't help but wonder if he was aware that he was stroking his thumb over his cheek. “My bedroom, second door on the right, help yourself to some dry clothes.”

“Are you sure?”

Ron nodded, taking a step back. Carwood definitely didn't miss his warmth. 

“Positive. We're about the same height, you should be able to find something.”

“O-Okay,” he relented, the uncomfortable rub of wet clothes on his skin enough to beat his worries of sharing a stranger's clothes. Well, Ron wasn't a stranger, but Carwood wasn't sure he could quite call them friends just yet. And whilst tonight very well could be a date, he still wasn't completely sure, that didn't make them official or anything.

Ron sent him another smile before disappearing into the kitchen again with a call that dinner would be ready in around ten minutes. Plenty of time for him to get changed.

He got to the bedroom easily but was surprised by what he found; he'd expected it to be like the rest of the apartment. Instead, the floor was practically spotless, only two books and a few DVDs left by the foot of the bed – which, surprisingly, was neatly made with a black, silk cover. He smiled to himself, helping himself to a couple of items from the wardrobe that looked alright.

Unsure what to do with his own clothes, he folded them carefully and placed them on the floor where they could ruin anything. That's when he caught sight of himself in the mirror, ripped jeans that looked painted on they were so damn tight and a pastel pink hoodie that was just slightly too long on him. It was nothing like his basic jeans and blue sweater. 

Yeah, his mother definitely wouldn't approve if she were here right now. Luckily, she wasn't.

He headed back to the kitchen, the apartment now flooded with the mouth-watering smell of freshly baked pastry and steak. His stomach rumbled.

“Just in ti-” Ron paused as Carwood stepped into the room, plates hovering over the table which had been set up with fancy cutlery and a candle in the middle. Carwood couldn't help but smile. “Wow...”

“Wow?” he frowned at Ron, unsure what he was looking so in awe at.

Ron shook his head, and Carwood swore he could see the faint hint of a blush on his cheeks. He placed the food down before wiping his hands on his apron, glancing back over at him with that oddly intense stare that he had. “Nothing, it's just...you look good in my clothes.”

Carwood spluttered, hardly paying attention as Ron undid his apron and threw it over the counter to reveal a crisp black shirt underneath – the top few buttons undone just enough to tease at the smooth expanse of his chest. “They're your clothes,” he pointed out, not entirely sure what he was even saying at this point as he took the offered seat, “you ought to think they look good.”

“Yeah,” Ron said, sitting opposite him and pouring them both a glass of wine, “but they look especially good on you.”

He didn't really know what to say to that, so he just shook his head with a shy smile and took a mouthful of pie instead. He hadn't realised Ron was still watching him until after he let out a practically sinful sound at the blend of flavours in the food, shovelling another bite in before feeling that stare again.

Ron was smiling, pride evident on his face as he looked over the flickering candle at him. It should've been embarrassing, beyond so, swallowing down a mouthful of pie and fighting back another moan whilst his possible-date watched in light amusement. But Carwood suddenly found that he couldn't care less.

“You really do cook as good as you look.” He laughed, washing the food down with a sip of wine. “This is seriously amazing.”

Ron chuckled, the sound deep and velvety as it washed over him. “Thank you, Carwood.” If he wasn't smitten already, he certainly was now. Hearing his full name roll off of that tongue, the rough edge of his voice somehow gentler now. It was endearing.

“You surprise me,” he finds himself saying, swirling the tip of his finger around the rim of his glass. “I wouldn't have expected you to be such a natural cook.”

“Don't judge a book by it's cover.” Ron shrugged, mischievous glint in his eyes. Something about that look told Carwood that Ron enjoyed being underestimated.

“I suppose you're right,” he said, absently, as his mind wandered off to think of all the other things Ron might be capable of: sewing, painting, singing...the possibilities were endless.

“Of course I am.” Ron smirked, causing him to roll his eyes. That didn't stop the smile on his face, unfortunately.

It was as they cleared the table together, Ron insisting that he didn't need to help (not that he listened), that he took the crazy leap of faith they're always talking about in the movies. As soon as Ron's hands are free, he steps into his space and tilts his head that tiny inch to capture Ron’s lips in a kiss.

He only meant for it to be short and sweet since it's their first kiss and he isn't even convinced Ron actually likes him like that but within seconds Ron’s got him turned around and pushed against the counter, their tongues sliding deep and wet. Carwood feels alive with pleasure, body alert and tingling in a way he's never experienced before, electrifying shivers shooting down his spine when fingers slide under his - _Ron's_ – hoodie to graze over bare skin.

He arches up into the touch, the grip on his waist now tightening and he's certain there'll be small finger-shaped bruises tomorrow. Even that thought is enough to fill him with excitement, anticipation and want.

Ron was making this half-groan, half-whimper as he all but claimed Carwood's mouth with his own, the cold shock of his lip ring hitting his lip and causing Carwood to gasp into Ron's mouth. It was suddenly like a thread snapped in him. Carwood couldn't help but cradle Ron's face in his hands and tilt his head to get a better angle as he deepened the kiss, moaning shamelessly into the mouth pressed against his. He kissed Ron like he needed him to breath, clinging to him like his only remaining lifeline. And Ron responded in likeness.

It was minutes, perhaps even hours, later when they eventually broke the kiss off, panting heavily into each other's space as Ron pushed his forehead into Carwood's. The hints of a smile danced over his swollen lips and Carwood felt a welcome heat in his chest.

“That was, quite possibly, the best kiss of my life.” Ron whispered, voice hoarse, bringing a hand up to drag his fingertip along the curve of his jaw. Carwood shivered under the touch.

He's not sure where his burst of confidence came from - he'll blame the wine – but Carwood found himself bumping his nose against Ron’s and saying, “What if you could have a kiss like that every day?”

“Then I would die a happy man.”

Carwood smiled, daring to brush their lips together once more and laughing softly when Ron leaned in instantly. “After that pie, it's the least I could do.”

Ron chuckled and, from the way he was currently pressing him into the counter, Carwood could feel the vibrations through his chest. “I'm not sure those match up.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Ron obliged, dipping down to draw him back into another passionate kiss, this time gentler as they took the care to explore one another. It was soft and sweet, the lingering taste of wine on Ron's tongue as he licked into his mouth and the press of metal a constant reminder of the piercing he had. He could feel the curve of Ron's smile and it warmed his heart. 

It was perfect. Ron was perfect. He was everything Carwood had been searching for and more.

He was certainly not what his mother had in mind for him.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to send prompts at [tumblr](https://a-beautiful-struggle-of-life.tumblr.com/)! tysm for reading <3


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